"Is something bothering you?"
Filius's question caught Miss Potter by surprise, and the girl's eyes shot up to look at him instead of the feather in front of her. She raised her left hand and waggled her forefinger in a manner he had come to recognize, and words composed entirely from goldish-white sparks formed floating in the air.
'What do you mean?'
"I mean you are glaring at that feather as if it has personally offended you. When you asked with help with the Locomotion charm, this is not what I expected." Furthermore, the fact the Miss Potter would make such a request and then not experiment or ask questions was atypical for her. He had taught other students who were convinced that if they just sat in front of him in silence for a while he would magically fix whatever issue they had, but Miss Potter thankfully was not one of those. "You seem distracted, so I ask again. Is something wrong?"
The dark-haired girl frowned – scowled, more accurately, though not at him – and said nothing. Wrote nothing, either, for a minute or so. When she finally did reply, it was not what he expected.
'I expect I know the answer to this question, but I'll ask it anyway. Have you ever heard of the druids?'
He gave her his own frown as he read and reread her question. Nothing immediately came to mind, and while he did wrack his brain, further thought was just as unhelpful. Upon shaking his head, she snorted softly.
'Don't worry. I'm not surprised. It seems like nobody in this whole society has. They were the magical people of the Celts. Not just sorcerers or wizards, though, not like you are. They were both advisors and spiritual leaders of their communities. Regular people know about them, but I haven't found any mention—' The words vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and her eyes narrowed at him.
'Did I say something strange?'
Filius had been trying to keep his thoughts off his face, but clearly something had leaked out. He could not begin to guess whether it was true or how it would have come about, but it really did appear that the loss of her voice had caused her to become far more perceptive than she had any right to be. "I am just surprised at what you said. Wizards being spiritual advisors to Muggles; I have a hard time imagining it. We as a society keep ourselves separate from nonmagical people, have for centuries. Being as tightly intertwined as you describe…"
It was not just insane. It would be anathema to everything the wizarding world was founded upon.
'I noticed that wizards want nothing to do to regular people. A lot of you like to pretend they don't even exist.' Miss Potter cocked her head.
'Why is that, anyway?'
Why was it most of the conversations he had with this girl led into ugly topics? "Mostly it is for our own privacy and protection," he admitted. "It will be covered in History in the next couple of months, but there is a law called the Statute of Secrecy that requires us to stay separated from Muggles as best as possible. It came about during the European witch hunts, when certain segments of the Muggle population wanted to eradicate everyone they thought was a witch or wizard. Not that they were successful in catching any of us," he hastened to add before she could get the wrong idea, "but the fact that there were groups that wanted to exterminate us at all merely for existing was good motivation for us to ensure our own privacy."
'In hundreds of years, in witch hunts that spanned the entire continent, no wizards were caught? Not one?' Her ability to express emotion in the written word was impressive, even if that emotion was currently incredulity.
"It was less a matter that no one was caught so much as nobody was harmed," he replied. "A fair number of wizards were captured, but as I recall between flame-freezing charms and Disapparation, those who had the misfortune of being caught just pretended that they were burning and instead got out of the way once they felt they had put on a good enough show."
Miss Potter gave him an odd look before looking back at the feather. It was always fascinating to watch her attempt new magic, he thought to himself as she waggled her fingers at the feather for several minutes. It was nothing at all like the spells he had learned, either here at Hogwarts or during his time on the dueling circuit. The Ilvermorny-trained wizards he knew still used proper incantations the few times they displayed wandless magic, and while Trembull had gotten it down silently, she still needed utmost focus for her displays of summoning and banishing. But this? There was something almost primitive about the way Miss Potter worked, as if he were watching cave men playing with fire for the first time.
Which was more right than it wasn't. Not the fire aspect, but she was having to interact with magic in the most primal way possible.
'I don't know the best way to say this, so I'm just going to say it,' she said after a while.
'That may be how wizards remember history, but it's definitely not how the rest of the world does.'
"That isn't a surprise. I said—"
'I'm not talking about people being sure how the people at the stake were burned or not,' she cut in, deftly anticipating his next words.
'Or not entirely, anyway. It's more everything before that.
'I read a lot about magical traditions before I got my letter about Hogwarts. Fiction, folklore, history; anything I could get my hands on. I read a little about the witch hunts, too, and the chain of events you describe just didn't happen. If a mob or especially the church thought someone was a witch, it wasn't straight to tossing them onto a pyre. They wanted to prove to themselves that somebody was magical, and that meant tests. Including searching their homes and their pockets for anything witch-like. A long piece of wood?' She pointed at his wand lying on the desk next to a pile of half-marked essays.
'You don't think they would have found that suspicious? If you think someone is an evil sorcerer, you don't let them keep tools and weapons on them. I don't need a wand to use magic, but all the rest of you do. How would you protect yourselves from flames and blades without any way to cast spells?'
Filius frowned as he considered her question. It went against everything he recalled being taught about the witch burnings, and the temptation to dismiss her words as those of a first-year student who was just misinformed was certainly present, but… What she said made
sense. If he were a Muggle and thought someone was a wizard, a search was a reasonable precaution to take. And while modern Muggles had a lot of wrong ideas about wizards, he knew they still associated witches with wands. There was no excuse for Muggles before the Statute who probably had been exposed to real magic not to make that same assumption.
And worse, he knew she was absolutely right about the wand issue. Without a wand, most wizards still would have been able to get themselves to safety – Apparation, like essentially all forms of magical transportation, was not reliant on wand work – but they would have had to do so immediately. No subterfuge would be possible.
Apparently noticing that he was mulling her words over, she continued writing.
'Not to mention, from what I understand many, even most, accusations of witchcraft were not handled the same day. The history books made it very clear that suspected witches were interrogated about other witches they might know. They were tortured until they confessed, to the point that supposedly a lot of so-called witch burnings were little more than cremating the person's body in front of the town. They died from the torture, not the flames.'
"That…" He wasn't even sure
what to say to all that. It was one thing for Muggles to believe they had successfully burned a wizard who in fact had fled, but he didn't remember anything from the history books that was even remotely similar to Miss Potter's account. "You're sure this is what Muggles think happened?"
'I can bring the books for you to look at yourself. I just need to make a trip to Bristol first.' She gave him a lopsided grin, so similar to those her father had worn when he and his friends got caught in the middle of a prank and could not think of a way to talk themselves out of the situation. And yet, would James have worn such an smirk after discussing the morbid topic of the last few minutes? Filius doubted it, and the comparison cast Miss Potter's expression in a far eerier light.
'And we would need to make sure Madam Pince never found out I stole from a library.'
"No, no. Let us not invite her wrath upon us if we can avoid it."
The grin only widened for a moment before her expression sobered.
'I do not have proof, not exactly, but a few things I've read from the history books we were assigned make me think there are some glaring inaccuracies in what you are taught, and that is in the best case. In the worst?' She shrugged uncomfortably.
'They read more as what the authors wish the result to be, not necessarily what truly happened. If I'm right, I would have to wonder just what other people think of how wizards remember history. If one group's own history says there was one set of events and wizards believe it happened a completely different way?'
That… hit uncomfortably close to home. He knew it was not her intention – there was no way for her even to know about it, after all! – but he could not stop his mind from wandering to an argument he thought he had long forgotten and pushed aside. At the time he had been convinced he was right, but if Miss Potter's doubts were valid?
The girl in question tilted her head, the eye not covered by her strange eyepiece gleaming in curiosity, and he sighed. He must not have been as good at hiding his flinch as he thought he was. This was not something he would normally discuss with a student; he had not even discussed it with anyone on the staff for the simple reason that it was a personal issue and quite frankly none of their concern. Would she accept the same explanation?
Lily had never let anything lie, not when her curiosity was piqued, and Miss Potter was far too much like her mother for him to expect anything different.
"Long ago, back before your mother was born, I got into an argument with one of my cousins. As you might have guessed from my height"—he waved at the space between their heads, as he was probably the only person in the entire castle who was shorter than Miss Potter—"I have some goblin in my ancestry. Specifically, my grandmother fell in love with a human who was a fellow Cursebreaker employed by Gringotts and eventually married him. Most of her family shunned her for her choice – human-goblin relations have never been cordial, but a hundred years ago they were even worse than they are now — with the exception of her twin sister. Their children were likewise close, and the same held true to my generation." He sighed. "Held being the important word.
"My cousin and I got into a nasty argument about the history of the goblin-wizard wars over the last few centuries. The exact details are not relevant," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, "but in essence the core issue we were debating was who held the bulk of the responsibility. There is a reason wizarding history calls them 'rebellions' even though the goblin nations have never truly been conquered or ruled by wizard society; I have been taught and read that the aggressors were consistently the goblins." Which had made history class particularly painful for him, hearing about crimes members of some of his blood had committed against the other side of him.
"Aslaug, obviously, felt differently. She maintained that it was the wizards who had started several of the conflicts. Not all, but many." And now that he was reviewing this argument, that detail stood out starkly. He could not help but wonder what that must have looked like from her perspective; her saying that blame was held by both parties while he denied the wizards had ever done anything to start these conflicts? Even if Miss Potter turned out to be wrong about the witch burnings, he would still have doubts about the position he had taken all those years ago.
He shook his head as he realized his thoughts were drifting away from the conversation at hand. "It seems like such a strange position to argue considering the conversation you and I just had, but at the time Aslaug was part of a political group that wanted to use Gringotts' financial power as leverage to challenge the laws preventing goblins and other non-humans from purchasing and wielding wands. While the desire for wand-magic is not uncommon in goblin circles, the willingness to flirt with war yet again thankfully pushed her group to the fringe of society. At the time I was convinced what she was saying was a lie she had been told to justify the use of force to get what they wanted, and I told her that to her face. Which…"
'If she was right and you were the one who was lied to, that wouldn't have gone over well,' Miss Potter finished for him.
"Exactly." He looked down in shame and rubbed his fingers together, the long nails that came from his goblin heritage scraping against each other. "Since we were at her mother's home for a feast day, I stormed out in a huff. I, er, haven't spoken with her or the rest of that side of my family since."
Thirty… six years? It was shocking how long it had really been now that he stopped and thought about it.
A pale hand reached out to cover his own, and almost reluctantly he lifted his head to find Miss Potter watching him with sad eyes. Her other hand rose and wrote,
'You should reach out. She might feel just as bad about breaking your relationship as you do.'
"Perhaps, but I wouldn't count on it," he said with a mirthless laugh. "Aslaug has never been good at letting go of grudges. But you're right, I should try to talk to her. Even if she would not forgive me, I still owe her an apology regardless."
The winter holidays, he decided. He could let Minerva and Pomona know tonight that he was planning to be gone for a few days to take care of family business. He was sure one of them would be willing to keep an eye on his Ravenclaws while he was away.
Miss Potter gave him an uncertain smile and stepped back.
'You said the point of this Statute of Secrecy was to keep wizards separate from non-magical people? Was there opposition to this law? Or was everyone in agreement with it?'
"Before today I would have said that it was the global or near-global view of wizardkind at the time," he admitted. "Now? To the best of my knowledge it was not opposed, but I do not claim to be an expert in the subject. I should tell you to ask Professor Binns, but…"
She simply nodded, not needing him to finish the thought. Asking Cuthbert anything at all had become increasingly difficult over the last few years. That was the problem with ghosts, unfortunately; the more time that passed since their deaths, the more trapped they became in whatever routine they had developed. It was possible to knock them out of their set patterns, but never for long and the older one was, the harder creating such a diversion became.
'How long ago was the Statute created? You talk like it was a long time ago, but also that it was a global decision.'
He gave her a wan smile. Her surprise was not unreasonable; in fact, it was something that was fairly common among Muggleborn and those likewise raised in the Muggle world. Few would have believed that the Girl-Who-Lived of all people could grow up in complete ignorance of their world, but there was no other explanation for Miss Potter's perspective and the questions she asked. "The faster people can travel, the smaller the world becomes. Apparation makes the world very small indeed. Speaking with someone on the other side of the world is merely a question of whether you or someone you know has been there before. That and of course whether you and the person you want to speak with share a language," he added with a short chuckle. "So when the idea of hiding all presence of ourselves worldwide was proposed, it didn't take long for the conversation to reach everyone it might affect.
"The Statute of Secrecy was finally implemented in 1689, and while there have been instances that risked breaking it, it remains intact even now."
A nod was all the answer he received, Miss Potter obviously mulling over his words. He could tell when she decided to put that aside to think on later when she gestured at the feather and lifted her hand; just as when she had done so previously, the feather followed her movement into the air. On her other attempts, the feather fell as soon as she no longer pantomimed holding it aloft, but this time Miss Potter cocked her head in a manner not dissimilar to that of the little songbird perched on a nearby desk. Eyes narrowed in contemplation, she glanced between her hand and the feather before tapping all five fingertips together. A finger pointed at the feather then the stone floor.
This time, when Miss Potter let her arm fall, the feather stayed aloft.
"Bravo, Miss Potter," Filius praised, more than happy to have something other than world-shaking revelations to focus on. "You certainly seem to have figured it out. Now, will it remain in place when you leave, or will it follow you?"
When Miss Potter had described her 'levitation' spell to him, it had caught him by surprise that it was nothing so limited. Levitation, summoning, banishing, all combined and operating in all three dimensions at once? It was not as if such a thing was
impossible, in fact he knew such a spell himself, but it was a far more advanced spell than he would expect to be within the capabilities of an eleven-year-old witch. And, he had to admit, it was considerably more involved than simply imagining a disembodied hand. He had needed to reread her statement a couple of times when she wrote that. Magic was many things, but it was
not straightforward like that!
Now,
Locomotor was a nifty and flexible little spell, one that could effectively 'lock' an object either exactly where it was or in a set position relative to something – typically someone – else. In some ways he was surprised Miss Potter had not figured it out before now, but he was not surprised she wanted to learn it now that she knew such a thing was possible. Since she was creating it from scratch, however, there was no telling whether it would work exactly the same.
'It should stay where I put it,' she replied as she took several steps back. Sure enough, the feather did not budge even an inch. She reached up and rubbed her lips with one finger, contemplative eyes fixed not on the feather per se but seemingly on something else only she could see. A scissoring motion of her left hand, and the feather bobbed closer to her and followed along when she made a few experimental paces.
'I hadn't thought to have it follow me. That's really wicked, Professor.'
"I try my best," he told her in a dry voice. Not that he could really take the credit, but if she wanted to give it to him nonetheless, well who was he to refuse? "What did you do to make it work, if I may ask?"
'I had to lift it with my hand like normal,' she began, raising her right hand to demonstrate,
'and this time I had the idea to change its shape into a ball or a cage. From there it wasn't much of a leap to making it a balloon instead since those float all on their own.' Her curled fingers bent together to touch fingertips again.
'Since it's a balloon and is going to float, if I want something inside it to stay and not float away, I added a ribbon and tied it to the ground. Or if I want it following me instead, I can tie the ribbon to myself instead.'
She had not explained the scissoring motion she made to order the feather – or more specifically, this imaginary balloon of hers – to follow her, but it was not that hard to continue the analogy. "And I suppose if you want to change where it stays, you have to cut the ribbon and tie it to something new?" he asked, getting a nod of confirmation. "I have to ask, is it possible for something to 'pop' the balloon? You do not want somebody cancelling your spell by accidentally interacting with it."
'It isn't a real balloon, Professor.'
…Well, all right, then.
Miss Potter gave the feather a sideways glance and a frown. Without warning, the feather started shrinking in size, changing from a foot in length to only a few inches, before reversing the process and growing longer than Filius was tall.
'But if I inflate it and deflate it, I can do something similar to the spell you told us about this morning.'
Filius blinked in astonishment, the emotion marred with a slight thread of nervousness. This was the most fascinating and, yes, unnerving aspect of Miss Potter's magical abilities. Weaving together different movement-related spells into a single function he could understand. There was no way he could ever emulate the process on his own, but there was still a logical connection there. The Locomotion charm had
nothing in common with the Shrinking or Engorgement charms, though! How would a spell based on motion, or even the lack thereof, also affect something's physical size?!
And even more when despite her words, he had not taught them anything about the Shrinking charm's theory, wand motion, or incantation. All he had done was mention its existence, and nothing about its opposite! Miss Potter was far from stupid, in fact was clearly as clever as either of her parents if not more so, so deducing that enlarging an object was possible was no great leap. He just did not know how she went from knowing that it could be done straight to making it happen. Hers was a kind of intuition that was rare in the Wizarding World, only possessed by those brave and fool-hardy enough to dive blindly into the unknown depths of spell creation.
That alone was enough to make anyone nervous, especially knowing the disastrous ends many spellcrafters met. A particularity of her speech turned that nervousness into a creeping kind of dread. He had not missed that whenever she wrote about wizards and their world, she never once used the word 'we'. It was always
'you'.
Cleverness, personal drive, and social isolation were ingredients for an explosive potion, and the greater the traits the bigger the inevitable boom. He would never tell Miss Potter, and truthfully he did not think it that good a comparison in the first place, but while mostly she reminded him of Lily and sometimes of James, there were a few times he had looked at her and seen a young, more outspoken Augustus Rookwood.
And Augustus had made the consequences of turning clever wizards into derided outcasts
very clear.
He gave Miss Potter's curious glance a small smile in reply. He had failed a lonely young man once upon a time; he was not going to do the same thing to the girl in front of him.
How he would help her was another question entirely, and one he did not have a good answer for. The obvious solution would be to help her forge connections with students beyond Miss Perks, who was the definition of a wallflower if he had ever seen one and likewise Muggle-raised, but then he had to tackle another complication. How could one go about changing the opinions of an entire student body? Being a professor meant that in situations such as this one, his words carried less weight than those of another student, not more.
Well, this was thankfully not a problem that required a complete solution right this minute. He, both of them really, had time to think of the best way to help Miss Potter's relationship with her classmates before anything
permanent came to pass.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hazel's stride was determined as she left Professor Flitwick's classroom. She had not thought much of how her schedule overlapped with his, but now she was extremely glad that his office hours were during the last period today. It meant that she only had to wait a short time before talking to the other person in this castle who might be able to help her.
She arrived at her destination at the same time as the bells marking the end of period rang out, so all she had to wait for was the students inside the room to get out of her way. Quickly moving in, she smiled as she saw the familiar purple turban poking out from behind the desk.
Professor Quirrel looked up as the butt of her staff tapped against the stone floor. "Miss Potter? What are you doing here?
She hasn't attended a single one of my classes in weeks. What could bring her back now?"
'Hi, Professor. I don't mean to be rude, but I was actually hoping to talk to Marvolo.'
"Wait, what—" The man's face twitched, and now that she knew what she was looking for she thought she could sense when the two personalities switched control. It was not truly a sound, but the best way she could describe it was that it was not
too dissimilar from a curtain being drawn. If that curtain could somehow produce an echo and she was listening for that echo from several rooms away.
Hands straightened the robes he wore, and an expression that was more smirk than smile proved beyond a shadow of a doubt who was looking at her. "I was not expecting to see you again so soon, Hazel," Marvolo said in a soft voice. "This is not merely a social call, is it?"
'No, it's not. Do you remember how I said I was going to try my hand at divination?' Marvolo gave her the tiniest nod.
'I succeeded. I found the ruins of a druid village.'
"Druid?" Her stomach dropped at the puzzled tone of his voice, but he did not immediately continue. He blinked rapidly, and even unable to hear his thoughts she could see the wheels in his mind spinning. "…That name sounds familiar, but I can't
place it."
If she were honest with herself, she had hoped for recognition, but frustration at not remembering was the the best informed reaction she had gotten from any wizard thus far when she brought up her search.
'Celtic sorcerers. They also served as spiritual leaders and advised the leaders of their clans.'
"Yes, right," he muttered almost to himself. "I must have come across the name when I was a child, before Hogwarts. I don't think I have ever heard them mentioned in the magical world."
'That doesn't surprise me. I think the wizards might have killed them all.' That got his attention, and he impatiently waved his hand for her to elaborate.
'I said I found ruins. I managed to get a vision while I was there, and that vision showed me a group of wizards arguing with them and attacking them. I don't know why, but considering the culture of the druids and the Celts, I think it might have been about how close they were to the nonmagical members of their clans.'
Hazel hoped she was wrong. She did not even know the words for
how much she hoped she was wrong. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, the pieces just lined up too neatly. Wizards had killed druids once, and if it could happen one time it could happen more than that. The relationship between druids and their clans meant that them accepting the Statute of Secrecy was a near impossibility, and yet according to Professor Flitwick there was no recorded opposition to wizarding society going into hiding and talking all knowledge of magic with them. The only way that made sense was if the druids simply… were no longer in the picture.
Were they wiped out
because of the Statute? Did it happen earlier, for some unrelated reason? She had no way of knowing, and honestly it did not change the most important aspect of this realization anyway.
What really mattered was that there was no one for her to find. No school she could attend or hidden clan who would accept her into the fold. Not even a lonely sage on a remote mountaintop who could give her guidance. She was alone.
…It also meant
she was not a druid. Her mother was not a druid. She was just a crippled Muggle-raised witch who could not use a wand, who was stuck making things up as she went along. Whatever lessons her mother might have for her were lost to time. Marvolo had admitted to learning how to do magic without anything to help him when he was younger, but he also told her he still used a wand for most everything nowadays. She thought she was looking for a light to lead her out of the lonely darkness, but now she was having to face the disturbing possibility that any light that might have helped her had burned out a long time ago.
Marvolo's eyebrows rose nearly to the edge of his turban. "Truly? When did this happen?"
'I don't know. Before the Statute of Secrecy was finalized, I think, but beyond that I just don't know.'
"Was there anything distinctive about the wizards? Visible emblems? Was the cut of their robes unusual? Hairstyles? I do not claim to be an expert in wizarding fashion, but details like these might be able to give you a rough timeframe."
The idea of Marvolo reading books about hairstyles throughout the centuries made her want to giggle, but with a herculean effort of will Hazel limited herself to an amused grin. Strangely – perhaps because of the nature of the vision? – the mental image she had of the wizards was far clearer than it had any right to be. She took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips, air becoming glitter that gathered into a sparkly rendition of the wizards she had seen.
"That is a useful talent," he praised after a moment. Marvolo started walking around the images, humming to himself as he did so. "I thought the color was similar, but this makes it a certainty. Plum robes with a silver W on the breast? The leader of this little posse was a member of the Wizengamot."
'What's that?'
"The true leaders of magical Britain. Their membership is hereditary, much like the House of Lords. They are both a legislative and judiciary body; they draft the laws but also judge people who stand accused of breaking those laws." His smile lost any trace of humor it might have held. "Importantly, they are also the group who appoints and can remove the Minister of Magic, which means any Minister who wishes to keep his authority has to make sure he stays in their good graces. It gives them indirect control over the Ministry and therefore all aspects of government."
Oh. That… sounded like a lot.
Marvolo must have seen how overwhelmed she felt by the expression on her face, for he then laughed mirthlessly. "I doubt any of that means much to you now. Just know that they are the group that runs the country, for good or ill. Their decisions are ever made with the ulterior motive to give themselves more power, or at least to keep them from losing any. What is probably more important to you is the timing. Prior to the Wizengamot, governance of wizards in Britain was overseen by local lords who called themselves the Grand Patriarchs. Very unofficial and disorganized. These Patriarchs banded together into this august body back in… eleven…" He frowned and drummed his fingers against his thigh. "1190-something. I forget the exact year."
A member of the Wizengamot could not be running around before the creation of said institution, which meant—
'So they killed the druids sometime between 1190 and 1689, when the Statute was created. Because the druids never would have agreed with that law.'
He snorted. "Oh, I can do better than that. Do you see these pins?" He pointed to the bronze brooches holding the other mens' cloaks closed, each of which was shaped like a closed fist. "That is the insignia of the Fidentes, groups of wizards who served at the pleasure of the Grand Patriarchs and carried out whatever demands were placed upon them. Which typically involved dealing violently with anyone who earned their Patriarch's ire.
"It takes time for customs and traditions to change, for the old way of doing things to be supplanted by the new. These Fidentes were there with their Patriarch, but said leader was now a member of the Wizengamot rather than an independent lord. The practice of retaining enforcers like this was phased out during the second generation of Wizengamot members, primarily due to the expensive lifestyle the average Fidelis felt himself entitled to, which means we are most likely in the thirteen century when the Patriarchs still acted as they had in the preceding—"
Marvolo cut himself off, eyes locked onto one of the illusions she had created and narrowed in some unclear emotion. Hazel waited several seconds for him to continue his thought, but when he stayed lost in his own little world she walked around to search for what had caught his attention so thoroughly. Following his gaze, she noticed that one of the goons had a tattoo on his neck that was halfway peeking above the collar of his tunic, one depicting a rather stylized feather. Nothing that should deserve this much attention.
She gave Marvolo a forceful prod and showed him her question when he turned his glare onto her.
'What does the feather mean?'
Some thought crossed his mind, she could see it in his eyes, but rather than voice it he took a deep breath before letting it out through his nose. He looked back at the tattooed man and licked his lips slowly. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he finally replied.
'You spent a whole lot of time looking at it for it to be nothing.'
"That is not what I said," he countered with a smirk. "It is also irrelevant to the discussion at hand. You already have a mystery to occupy your time, and one that will be troublesome enough to solve all on its own."
'Troublesome?' That was an interesting word for him to choose. What more did he know that she was ignorant of?
His smirk widened into a mischievous grin. "Oh, yes. I am not unaware of how much time you have spent looking through the history books in the library, but I am afraid you have been looking in all the wrong places. You see, if you are right about wizards exterminating the druids, it would not be the first atrocity the Wizengamot was involved in, nor will it be the last. Men who lust for power do not enjoy having their actions criticized, so any books that might have been written about those times would not be in circulation for the casual student to come across."
That… lined up far too well with her other suspicions regarding how wizards interacted with history.
'Any book that mentioned them would have been destroyed, wouldn't it?'
"Not quite. Not here." He chuckled at her surprised expression. "It is an interesting aspect of the initial bylaws of Hogwarts. The Founders each had a hand in writing them, as well as the oath each headmaster must swear by before the castle will recognize them as having any legitimate authority. Part of the oath that was written by Rowena Ravenclaw was that the headmaster must ensure the 'accessibility of truth and wisdom' to the students. That includes destroying or permanently removing books added to the library or knowingly allowing anyone else to do so." He shrugged. "A clause that I'm certain more than one headmaster has railed against, but that is neither here nor there. Now, while our illustrious headmaster cannot
destroy any knowledge, he is allowed to hide it out of sight. That is, after all, the point of the Restricted Section: to keep forbidden knowledge locked away where it can pose no threat to the powers that be."
After spending several months combing through the library, Hazel would have to be blind as well as mute to have missed the locked doors keeping students out of that wing of the library.
'Madam Pince told me that professors can give students permission to look at books inside,' she reminded him, following that up with her best attempt at adorable puppy dog eyes.
"Professors can give students in their NEWT classes permission," was his retort. "Because the expectation is that students in their last two years of schooling have learned how to fit into this society and not create waves should they uncover information they shouldn't know. They are already aware of the consequences. After all, it is always the nail that sticks up that gets hammered down." He raised one eyebrow as he looked down at her. "You know of what I speak. Girls who ask questions no one wants to answer, who have to be punished for not getting with the program, are not the students who get permission to read books out of the Restricted Section."
He waved for her to leave as he started erasing the blackboard behind him. "I wish you good luck. You're going to need it."
